


Our love makes us traitors.

by Thamys020



Category: Macbeth - Shakespeare
Genre: M/M, Macduff POV, Malcolm I am very sorry for what happens to you sweetie, Manipulation, banquo is a good dad, donna I'm sorry, duff stop being a weirdo challenge, flee flee is a precious boy, he knows whats up, her son, honorable mentions are: lady duff, itty bitty baby, osbjorn, siward is a sad little man, sorry banq, the malduff REALLY isn't good, the thanes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-06 18:00:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26483056
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Thamys020/pseuds/Thamys020
Summary: "People do horrible things for power." I told him.Malcolm started to cry again.
Relationships: (Somewhat) - Relationship, Macduff/Malcolm
Comments: 4
Kudos: 9





	Our love makes us traitors.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [laddybants](https://archiveofourown.org/users/laddybants/gifts), [ancientcitylullaby](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ancientcitylullaby/gifts), [Jens_Holland](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Jens_Holland/gifts).



> welcome to this au!!

I was supposed to inherit. My bloodline owned the throne. My uncle, Bodhe, was the son of Kenneth III. If he had a son, I would never dare, but he only has my cousin, Gruoch. I should be king, not  _ Duncan _ . And definitely not his cousins. If Duncan was different, as I hoped he was, he would name me his heir. 

But he wasn’t. He named his eldest son, Malcolm, the Prince of Cumberland.  _ Malcolm _ of all people. Oh, of course he would name  _ Malcolm _ the Prince of Cumberland, he was just like his grandfather. 

I could kill him. I could kill them  _ both _ and be done with it -

“Nice party.” Malcolm sidled up to me with a glass of ale. I took it. 

“Congratulations, prince of Cumberland.” I joked, swallowing the bitterness. 

“I didn't want this.” He said quietly. “But...thank you.” 

“You don’t want… to be king?” I asked.

“Father wants it for me, but…” Malcolm shrugged. “I’ll do my best, I suppose.” He paused. “I’m lucky to have you, Duff.”

I looked at him. He wasn’t drunk, yet his face was flushed. He had a nervous smile on his face. 

“Malcolm.” I said, a plan forming in my head. “You can call me Ainsley.” 

Malcolm blushed brighter, gnawing at his fingernail with a smile. 

“Malcolm!” Duncan barked. Malcolm gave me a miserable look and I winced in sympathy as he walked off. 

I allowed myself a smile. He had always been naive. 

***   
Duncan was dead. 

Gruoch fainted, but I caught a sliver of her eyes, watching me. We both suspected the other, but she was the only one of us in the house, and besides, she didn't like getting her hands dirty. Never has. It had to be her husband, the one currently covered in the blood of the accused. Malcolm was shaking. I went to him, touching one of his hands with mine. He looked at me, eyes wide and curious, a small blush on his face. I gave him a reassuring smile. He smiled back. I knew he would run. I just didn't know where, so I created a convenient excuse, sending the others away, so I could listen. Banquo lingered on the fringes, giving me a suspicious look, but he too left, and I lingered in the hallway. 

“I’ll go to England.” Malcolm said. “And you?” 

“Ireland.” Donalbain said. “No one will look there.” 

“Be safe.” 

“You too.” They hugged and ran to their rooms. England… he clearly had plans. He was related to the Earl of Northumbria, and that had its advantages. Of course… 

He was raising an army… An army I could wield, and use through Malcolm. 

But first, I needed my friends on my side. 

***

“Duff. May we speak?” Banquo asked. I shrugged. Nodded. 

“What is it?” 

“What are you doing.” Banquo asked. “You told Macbeth where Malcolm and Donalbain were, and yet you comforted Malcolm after the murder.” 

“So?” 

“What is your  _ game _ , Duff.” Banquo asked. 

“There’s no game, Banquo.” I said, stepping closer to him. “I’m just certain of where my loyalties lie.” 

Banquo looked like he’d been slapped. I’d found his weak spot. He wasn’t as loyal to Macbeth as he pretended to be. That would get him killed. 

“What do you want with Malcolm.” Banquo asked.

“Nothing more than anyone else does.” I said. 

“Then why were you acting-“ I cut him off. 

“Affairs of the soul should be left in private, Banquo.” I said. 

He sputtered, then regained his composure.

“I’m watching you.” He said. 

“Have fun with that.” I sighed. 

***

“This is pretty meticulous, Duff.” Ailith said at last, rocking on her stool. “But there’s a flaw with the end of it.” 

“That’s where you five come in. Your armies will outnumber the English.” I explained. “Plus, Edward won’t want to waste his new alliance with Scotland over something as petty as bloodshed.” 

“True.” Flora mused. “We could convince some Englishmen to send a message to Edward.”

“Explaining I want to make an alliance.” I completed. 

“Yes!” Kieran said. “Plan success!” 

“Do we really have to  _ kill _ Malcolm?” Aaron asked.

“With luck he’ll get himself killed.” Kieran dismissed. “And I’m free to woo Donalbain.” 

“Kieran you horny fuck.” Leslie said. 

“So we’re in agreement?” I asked. My friends nodded. “Wonderful.”

***

On the eve before I went to England, Banquo was killed. 

His misplaced loyalty reminded me of Malcolm. Maybe that’s where he got it from

***

“Malcolm?”

“DUFF!!” Malcolm smiled widely. “Duff!” He ran to me, then paused. I hugged him. 

“It’s good to see your face.” He said.

“I’ve missed you too.” I told him. “Any word from Scotland?” 

“No.” He said. 

“Macbeth has Banquo killed.” Malcolm’s eyes filled with tears.

“Banquo…” He whispered, sinking into my embrace. “Banquo….Banquo….”

I held him as he sobbed. 

“Ainsley…” He sniffled.

“What is it?” 

“Why?” He looked so heartbroken, so hurt. 

“Some people do horrible things for power.” I told him. Malcolm started to cry again. 

Naive little boy. Stop crying already. 

***

Siward and his family seemed to trust me. That’s good.

***

“What if… I was a bad king?” Malcolm asked.

“What do you mean by that?” I asked.

“I mean what if I swore and lied and killed more people than Macbeth. What if I was wicked and cruel. Would you…”  _ love me  _ was on the tip of his tongue and I knew it. “Still want me to be king?”

He couldn’t be that kind of King. He couldn’t be a king Scotland needed. Scotland needed someone like me. Someone who would do whatever it took to get to the throne.

“No.” I told him. “If you were such things, I would kill you where you stand.”

“Good thing I’m none of those things, then.” Malcolm laughed nervously. He flapped his hands, then stopped.

“That’s kind of cute.” I told him. “You could do it if you wanted.” Malcolm smiled.

“You’re so good…” He said. “Is someone approaching?”

It was Aaron. 

And he told me my family was dead.

***

The world was a haze of grief and pain. I could vaguely make out Aaron hugging me, my knees on the rocky path. Malcolm worked his way into our hug, whispering apologies. 

Macbeth would die for this. I swore it to Malcolm, who nodded gravely and gave me the rights.

I took him to bed that night.

I didn’t want her memories in my mind. I didn’t care who would replace the woman who could have been my Queen as long as I didn’t think of her face her hands her laugh her smile- 

I was content with Malcolm, who was gentle and kind in the same way she had been. I was content, I told myself, and nothing more. 

But I woke up with Malcolm next to my and my heart skipped a beat.

Was I actually falling in love with- 

Get your head in the game, Duff. I told myself. 

***

Fleance came the next day, and attached himself to Malcolm. He refused to leave Malcolm’s side for any reason, and like his father, he seemed hesitant to approach, which was fine. Every time I saw him I thought of Sirrah…

Sirrah, my son… 

Fleance slept in the same bed as me and Malcolm. In the morning when I closed my eyes I could pretend I was home in Fife with Favi and Sirrah. 

***

To Scotland we went, finally. I was itching to kill Macbeth. 

Ailith and Flora met us closer to Dunsinane, while Aaron, Leslie, and Kieran met us from the border. We outnumbered the English.

Osbjorn, Siward’s son, seemed excited. I hoped he wouldn’t die. He and Malcolm seemed close. He and Siward seemed close. He had too much to live for, like Sirrah…

***

“You can’t defeat me!” Macbeth snarled. “No man borne of woman can defeat me!”

“I was ripped from my mother, you tyrant!” I told him. I felt almost sorry for him. He was a mess. Bags under his eyes, hair a mess. He wore a bloodstained ring on a leather cord. “Yield or die!”

“I WILL NOT YIELD TO MALCOLM!!” Macbeth howled, swinging his sword. I blocked him easily and knocked him down. He struggled to get up.

“You won’t kneel to Malcolm.” I told him. “You yield to me.” Macbeth's eyes went wide. I cut off his head.

My family was avenged. The crown was in my grasp.

I would be king.

***

“Ainsley!!” Malcolm lit up when he saw me. Siward was clutching the body of his son, looking quite stunned, almost detachedly so. Fleance was again stuck to Malcolm’s side. “Ainsley thank the gods-“ He embraced me. I palmed the knife from my pocket and gave Ailith the signal. The Scottish forces surrounded the battered English. 

“I’m so glad you’re alive!” Malcolm sobbed. “Osbjorn - he -“ 

“MALCOLM!!” Fleance yelled, voice shrill. He must have seen the knife. 

Before Malcolm could react, I stabbed him. 

He blinked sluggishly, one hand going to the knife, touching my hand. He looked up at me, eyes full of tears and betrayal. 

“Wh-“ I yanked the knife out. He gasped, trying to grab me. I faintly heard Siward let out a howl. 

“Long live the king.” I said, cupping his face with one hand, kissing him on the lips. 

Then I slit his throat and dropped him to the ground, putting the crown on my head. 

“Hail king of Scotland!!” Flora yelled. 

“Hail! King of Scotland!” The Scottish army yelled.

“HOW COULD YOU!!” Siward wailed. 

“Give Edward a message for me.” I told him. “That King Ainsley Mac Duff requests an alliance.” 

Siward spat on my boot, cradling his son closer. His hand went to his sword, but one of his men nodded silently and took him, kicking and screaming, away. 

“Fleance.” I said. 

“I HATE YOU!!” Fleance yelled, before running off after Siward.

We buried the bodies of the English and Scottish that had died, and I once again came across Malcolm’s body.

I cradled it gently, brushing a curl out of his face, and kissed him once more. 

Gentle and sweet, as he’d always been.

And then I buried him with the other men. 

**Author's Note:**

> hi everybody!! we return to my guilty pleasure: killing malcolm.  
> im so sorry :>


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